I’ve lived all over and come away with a bit of an odd (charming, I'd like to think) combination of different regional characteristics. I cross streets like a New Yorker, have the politics (and sense of guilt when I leave a room without turning the lights off) of a Northern Californian, and try to treat people with kindness – the way people do in Nebraska where I grew up (I did manage to avoid taking on the less-than-charming politics of my home state - you know, the conservative sense of gender roles, homophobia, gun-toting, those sorts of lovely things). Spending a year in grad school at Oxford left me with an appreciation of sticky toffee pudding, an ability to feel comfortable in a tux, and a habit of using “crap” as an adjective (without the “-py”, as in “Well, that was a crap show.”).
I live by certain principles. I believe that hoppy beer should be consumed from a pint glass and not from the bottle, and I like my red wine slightly chilled, not room temperature. I’m a sucker for impeccable grammar and a quick wit. But I definitely don’t take myself too seriously, and I sometimes have a tough time with people who do. (And for the record, I certainly think that there are times when there’s nothing better than a cold bud light from an aluminum can – say, at a summer afternoon baseball game at Nats Park…).
As a traveler, I prefer wandering around neighborhoods and trying out bars and restaurants rather than visiting museums and other tourist-y sites. In the past year, I've explored Cartagena, Bogota, Toronto, Savannah, and Charleston. I like coming home from a trip with a pint glass from a local microbrewery.
I can be a bit impatient. I’m a fast walker, and easily annoyed with people who walk too slowly on the Metro escalator. (On a related note, I really think that escalator-walking would make a great Olympic sport – in addition to speed, there’s a great deal of technique and strategy involved. And the weather can add to the degree of difficulty. Really, it's not that much different from downhill skiing.) At the same time, I love long dinners – I’m the sort of person who has no shame about telling the waitress five times that she’ll need to come back later to take our orders because we’ve been too deep in conversation to have taken a glance at the menu.
And I love people-watching. Not in a creepy way – in a “Let’s see what economic principles and psychological theories we can apply to the couple at the table next to us” sort of way.